The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (44 page)

“Officers?” the captain asked, completely taken off guard.

Gorth winked at him.

“I know, I know. It’s not been officially announced yet, but Ormidon is rife with rumors. Add to that the fact that I’ve had an excellent military training — at the royal court, no less — and you’ll understand that I knew immediately what was brewing.”

“What was brewing, My Lord? And what might that be?”

“I see you’re going to play this the hard way. Well, let’s see. Soldiers are coming in from the South. They could be arriving any day now. It’s clear. The high king is finally going to sort out the Northern Marches once and for all. The army should be ready by early spring, I guess. A few months of brisk training, and then a quick march up the Northern Highway.”

The captain looked at Gorth with open mouth.

“Oh, I don’t expect much more than a token resistance, if that,” the young lord of Sidullia continued. “His Glorious Majesty and his sons will soon come to an amicable agreement, I suppose. Still, the army will need competent officers. And that’s where I come in.”

The captain sighed, long and hard.

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“Where to begin? My Lord, I’m afraid whatever rumors you heard

had it wrong. We’re decommissioning the men here. They don’t tell me much, but I’m sure I would have heard if we were preparing for any kind of military operation. The army is economizing, not recruiting. It seems His Glorious Majesty is planning to negotiate some kind of truce with Lorsanthia.”

Gorth looked at the captain, with blatant disappointment on his face.

“But what is going to happen to all these soldiers?”

The captain shrugged.

“They’re returning home, I suppose. They arrive here in small units, receive their pay and render their arms. They will be permitted to keep just their swords and daggers for personal protection. Those will simply be deducted from their final pay. Then documents will be signed, and after that they’re free to go. Some stay here for a few days to wait until they can form a group to make the journey home together.”

“Well, that’s what I call bad luck,” Gorth said.

“It’s not my place, My Lord, and perhaps I shouldn’t be saying this at all, but I heard the warlord, that is, His Highness the Lord Governor of the Northern Marches is still recruiting. He needs troops to colonize the Renuvian Plains. At this very moment a few Northerners are awaiting the arrival of some more of their fellow countrymen. I wouldn’t be surprised, not surprised at all, if they went straight to Dermolhea to enlist with the prince. Straight from the service of the father into that of the son. But soldiers don’t care about all that.”

“Ah,” was all Gorth replied.

“They will be leaving for Troncton in a few days, the general plan being to offer their services to one of the Trade Caravans headed for the north. With any luck they will be earning a few moltars, and at the 37
same time, by offering safety to the traders, they will have a safe trip to Dermolhea themselves. The sergeant who had the idea is quite a clever fellow.”

“Indeed he is,” Gorth mused. Then he looked up at the captain, and smiled disarmingly. “Thank you very much, captain. It was not what I hoped to hear, but you certainly gave me food for thought and even some prospects. I’m going to mull this over, and chances are I will join them.”

“So, that pompous ass, Irrom was right,” Standor said, handing a large tankard with weak brown ale to Gorth.

They sat at the table in Standor Riggtar’s living room.

“I’m not all that sure. They get to keep their swords, the captain said. It stands to reason that they wouldn’t like to travel totally unarmed. Still, I wonder…”

“I see your point. We’re still not certain if the king doesn’t plan to reassemble them somewhere else.”

Gorth drank deeply from his beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yes, Standor, but it just doesn’t make sense, does it? If he wanted to surprise Prince Anaxantis, he would have to reassemble them far up north. Even so the little warlord would smell a rat long before the king could mount any kind of effective operation. It’s impossible to keep these things a secret. Not for any length of time. Too many people are involved.”

“Even if they traveled in small groups, there would be so many of them they would draw some kind of attention. A lot of people use the Northern Highway,” Standor concurred.

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“What if they went by other roads, nearer to the eastern border?

There are a few thinly inhabited regions.”

“It still wouldn’t solve the fundamental problem, would it? Eventually they would have to come together again at one point. Besides, even the eastern provinces aren’t exactly unpopulated.”

Gorth slumped back in his chair.

“You’re right. There’s only one thing for it. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Troncton to await the group of soldiers the captain mentioned. I’ll try to befriend them. The same cover story can serve a second time.”

“Meanwhile I’ll see if I can find out something more, eh,—”

“Gorth. You can say it. It’s an easy enough name to pronounce.”

“Yes, eh, Gorth,” Standor said, still a little embarrassed by the uncomfortable familiarity. “I doubt they will be able to tell me anything worthwhile though. Either there is nothing to tell, or this is truly a secret operation, in which case they won’t know anything. None of which will prevent them from blowing a lot of hot air.”

Anaxantis was glaring at the armor of Prince Berimar on its stand.

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It had become even more hideous, if that were possible. There now

was a breastplate, almost but not altogether dent free, and two rerebraces. With the reflection of flames dancing upon the incomplete iron suit, it looked for all the world a dismembered demon out of Murokthil.

It was their first night back at Lorseth.

Ehandar entered the room, and got a glimpse of Anaxantis’s glowering look before his brother broke out in a welcoming smile. He put a basket he had been carrying on the table.

“Oh,” Anaxantis said, “I was just admiring the armor. It’s coming along nicely I see.”

“Yes it is, isn’t it? I’m sorry, love, but I was thinking of putting it in an empty room on one of the floors beneath us. The light is better there and I’m starting on the gauntlets one of these days. Lots of tiny bits that need to be cleaned and then reassembled. It’s precision work and there’ll be a lot of rust flying around.”

“What a shame,” Anaxantis said, not exactly truthfully.

“Sorry, it can’t be helped, I’m afraid. Unless you insist.” Ehandar smiled, cocking one eyebrow.

“No, no, I understand. You need the light,” Anaxantis replied.

Ehandar removed his mantle and his sword. Then he sat down and took off his boots and socks. He went over to the great wardrobe to put everything away.

“Sweetheart, put something on your feet. The stones are cold.

You’ll get sick,” Anaxantis said.

Ehandar shrugged.

“I’ll walk on the rugs. All my shoes and boots seem too tight for my feet. They’re not, actually, but it feels great to take them off. My feet are always throbbing.”

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Anaxantis had sat down in the big chair near the hearth. Ehandar

joined him.

“We really need a larger chair, or a couch,” he said, sitting half on his brother’s lap, and taking a strand of his hair, winding it around a finger.

“Yes, we do. After all this trouble is behind us maybe. Speaking of which, we need to organize the defense of our border with the Midlands as soon as possible. I was wondering if you would take overall command of that.”

Ehandar looked surprised.

“Me? Why me? Can’t we do it together?”

“I wish we could, love. But I need to keep my hands free, and there are a lot of other things that need seeing to. After all, you are a lord governor.”

“Not a very good one,” Ehandar said, in a subdued voice.

“Nonsense,” his brother replied, just a bit too cheerful. “You were unlucky, maybe. You didn’t know all the factors involved at the time.

Now we do. Not everything, but more. We would be working together, sort of. Let me look after the political side of things while you take care the practical military organizing. New troops will be arriving and will need to be trained. You will be brilliant at that, I just know it.”

“And I will surround you with experienced men, under strict orders to never let you feel that they are guiding you.”

Ehandar didn’t seem as sure as his brother. Then he smiled, almost confidently.

“You really want me to do this? OK, I will. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

“I’m sure you won’t. Meanwhile, I plan to visit Marak and Bortram.

I want to see the defense works with my own eyes. I want to go to 37
some of the new settlements and see how they’re doing. They’re essential for the long term survival of Great Renuvia. They are the source of food and trade, but also of manpower. And I really need to show myself in the Plains.”

“You’ve been to the Plains before.”

“Yes, love, once to reconnoiter them and to look for suitable battlefields.”

“Didn’t you tell me that’s when you caught Timishi?”

“That’s when I met him, yes. The second time was to do battle with the Bear Mukthars. Put together, I wasn’t there all that long. Besides I need the people who live there now to see me. I’m beginning to feel like an absentee landlord. And I want to see Stonebridge with my own eyes, not only on plans.”

Ehandar pinched him softly.

“And you want to try out your new ship, don’t you?”

Anaxantis snickered.

“Yeah. I didn’t even have the opportunity to take the Rover out on a trial voyage.”

“Well, we’re barely here. When are we leaving again?”

“As soon as Tomar lets me off the hook. It seems a lot of administrative business has been piling up during my absence.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

Anaxantis put his arms around him.

“I will be back as soon as possible. The Rover is very fast and I can travel under almost all weather conditions, except a gale. I will sail along the coast up to the mouth of the river Mirax, then to the ruins of Renuvia and the Urtdam-Dek Pass, so on to the Queneq Pass and to 37
Stonebridge. I’ll send the ship back, and continue on horseback by the Northern Highway. I want to see the extension for myself.”

His eyes were glistening as he talked more and more enthusiastically. He saw Ehandar’s look of near disappointment.

“Why don’t you take your pupils with you, and maybe some of the older squires as well?” Anaxantis proposed. “I’m sure Obyann will be glad to be rid of them. And they love you. You won’t feel so lonely.”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea. The guys will be ecstatic.”

“They could be very useful for all kinds of necessary little tasks like sending written orders, gathering information and such. And you could continue their lessons in the martial arts.”

“You’re sure Father only wants us to make a show of manning the border?”

“Fairly sure. I think I know what he is planning, and it is not attacking us. Nevertheless, I want our new troops to be trained thoroughly. Make them exercise, have them make long marches with full equipment, see to it that they can execute complicated maneuvers without panicking, and you need to form a company of archers. They proved to be very useful at the Zinchara.”

Ehandar’s eyes had glazed over. He shook his head and smiled broadly.

“It seems I will have hardly time to miss you then, though I will. I’ll start first thing tomorrow. I need to tell the guys, for one, and then I need a base of operations. I’d better consult with Tomar about that.”

“It has already been arranged, but Tomar will listen to you,”
Anaxantis mused silently, happy that his brother seemed impassioned by his new task.

Ehandar frowned.

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“I think the main base of operations should be somewhere not far

from where the Northern Highway crosses the border. It’s the main access road, so we need to control it, if only for appearances' sake. I wonder if there is wood enough in the environs for constructing camps. I’d better look into that as well.”

Anaxantis was happy and content. He snuggled up closer to his lover.

“I’ll restore you yet,” he thought. “Already you’re beginning to think like a prince again. I hate to leave you but it’s necessary. Your self-confidence will grow in my absence.”

“Father will know we are fortifying the border,” Ehandar said. “I suspect flocks of pigeons will be leaving for Fort Nira once we start operations in earnest.”

“Good, we want him to know.”

Ehandar laughed.

“You know, I could try to put archers all along the border and shoot down every pigeon that tries to leave the highlands. It would be good exercise and I love roasted pigeon. Its meat is strong of flavor and lean.”

“And tough, very tough. They’re courier pigeons. Their muscles must be stringy and the meat hard as leather. And it wouldn’t do much good anyway. Father must have other means of communicating with his informers.”

They sat staring in the flames for several minutes, satisfied to be in each other company.

“Is that dinner, there in that basket on the table?” Anaxantis asked.